Imagine
by tempusername
Summary: A series of quickwrites prompted by going to random posts on the imagineyourotp blog. Little vignettes of life in an alternate universe where H.G. is a full agent at the Warehouse and everything is going well - no plagues, no evil plots, just daily Warehouse life...except with much more Bering & Wells. There won't be connections between chapters; each stands alone.
1. Chapter 1: Lost in the Woods

_ Imagine your OTP lost in the woods. It's evening and it's starting to get cold. Person A puts half of their jacket around Person B. There is a strange noise from somewhere in the darkness, and they draw closer together._

* * *

"Myka?"

"Here. To your left…I think."

They'd been too slow. Despite leaving the Warehouse early in the morning, as soon as Artie had set the folder of information in Myka's hands and all but shoved them out of the door, the sun had already been setting when they'd arrived in Watford City. Now, as H.G. and Myka traipsed through the woods, the last light was fading from the sky. Any glimmer of stars was blocked by the tapestry of tree limbs far above, and the city—if you could call it that; Watford Square would be more accurate—lights were long out of sight.

Only the glow of H.G.'s flashlight, which was developing an unsettling brown tinge with every passing minute, had brought any sense of warmth to the two as they made their way towards their target. Now, Myka was deprived of that, too. A foot of distance in these black woods was as dangerous as a mile. H.G. was no longer at her side and the beam of light had vanished with her. Somewhere in these woods lurked a killer armed with the binds from John Holland's rack, and they were separated. Myka was sure her heart would break through her chest any moment if it kept up this furious pounding.

"Myka? Where are you?"

"I'm over here. Keep talking." Myka craned her neck, searching for the shine of the flashlight. Nothing. One hand remained on her Tesla; the other was balled into a tight fist. "It's always night," she growled to herself, stepping over a fallen branch as she moved towards the sound of H.G.'s voice. "We always end up searching for the scariest artifacts at night."

"Over _where_? Can you still hear me?" H.G. spun in place, letting the fading light of the flashlight wash over everything. Each shaky breath clouded in front of her, and she desperately hoped Myka knew how to get back to town. It would only get colder from here, and spending a late October night in the woods of North Dakota was not an experience she wished to have.

Myka had never wanted to scream so badly. Their forced quiet was infuriating. She knew better than to yell when their target could be anywhere, but trying to track a whisper was almost harder than looking for H.G. in silence. And then—

"I see you! Oh God, turn back around, I saw the flashlight for a second!"

H.G. turned back. The moment her light fell on Myka, they were dashing towards each other, crashing through the brush until they stumbled together at last, relief flooding them both.

"It took you long enough," H.G. told her, a trace of her confident smile ghosting about her lips.

"Shut up, you're the one who wandered off," Myka said, attempting the same levity, but her voice cracked and she grabbed H.G.'s arms, pulling the other agent close to her. "Damn it, Helena, I was terrified. We have to...we have to stick together. "

H.G. flinched at the contact and the flashlight dropped from her fingers. "Oh! Your hands are freezing."

While H.G. wore a large, heavy coat over her top, Myka was clad in only the shirt and blazer she'd thrown on before they'd left the Warehouse. Her fingers were ice on H.G.'s forearms, and when Myka released her and bent down to pick up the dying flashlight, H.G. was already tugging off her coat.

Myka stood up to witness the sight and was instantly displeased. "Leave that on! You need that!"

"I've been wearing it all night so far. It's your turn."

"I'm fine," she snapped. She swatted H.G.'s hand away from the coat. "Don't try to make silly sacrifices for me."

H.G. laughed. "Yes, not another silly sacrifice for you. Next I'll be setting off a bomb in the woods to keep us warm."

Myka was relieved that her cheeks were already crimson from the cold. Embarrassment flooded her. "I didn't mean that. Don't joke about that."

"Honestly, Myka, that was forever ago. Besides, it's nice to have a way to instantly throw you off a step for a moment. Normally that's so difficult."

In the moment Myka had spent stammering after H.G.'s quip, the jacket had come off. Now H.G. moved to place it over her friend's shoulders.

Myka tried to shrug it off, but H.G. held it in place. "Stay off that cross, Agent Bering," she teased.

The glare Myka shot at H.G. would have cowed anyone else. H.G. only smiled back. "Fine," Myka grumbled. "But it's giant. We can share it. And there's no time to debate, so just listen to me." H.G. relented, releasing Myka's shoulders. Myka opened up the jacket and H.G. stepped into it.

"It's not any warmer," H.G. observed, and then, seeing the look on Myka's face, she quickly added, "But I do appreciate it. Don't revoke the privilege." Any excuse to step closer to Myka, even if it was as impractical as this one, she supposed.

"I don't plan on it," Myka said. Even without the fear of the wilderness, having H.G. pressed by her side was always a deep comfort, and she would take any excuse for that.

"Mm. Very wise. Now, if I remember correctly, I believe we have a killer we should be tracking down…alas."

They shared a grimace. Nothing seemed less appealing than risking having their limbs torn off via artifact in the black North Dakota woods. Teslas were little use when you couldn't see your enemy sneaking up.

"We need to be quick," Myka sighed. She was staring at the flashlight, once more held by H.G., which had begun to flicker. "No more getting lost."

H.G. opened her mouth to comment that they happened to be lost right now, unless Myka had a secret gift for navigating through pitch black forests at midnight, but the words flew from her mind before they could leave her mouth: From somewhere deep in the darkness ahead of them came a burst of noise.

Footsteps.

She slowly looked at Myka. They both hesitated in open-mouthed silence for an endless second. H.G. inclined her head, a tired smile washing across her features. "I hope you have a plan," she whispered, her voice all but silent.

"I do," Myka promised. She looked in the direction of the sound and then back at H.G. "But - um - we need to split up for it."

H.G. groaned. "If I had even slightly less faith in you, I would think you were mad."

Another rustle came from the woods. This time, Myka grabbed H.G.'s free hand in both of hers; they could both feel the shaking of the other's fingers. H.G. was immediately responsive to the touch, pressing close to Myka underneath the coat.

"Well," H.G. sighed.

"Well," Myka agreed. "Let's snag it and bag it."

H.G. twisted to face Myka; the jacket fell to the ground, unnoticed by either. She pulled her hand free and cupped Myka's face. Her fingers curled under Myka's chin and she traced her jaw with her thumb. Myka shivered (from the cold, she told herself, and then H.G. stroked her cheek and she determined that it was most definitely _not_ the cold). Myka reached to push a strand of hair back from H.G's face, running her hand through the dark mane to settle on the back of H.G.'s neck. It all happened in seconds, but it felt gloriously infinite.

And then it passed. For a moment, the fear in H.G.'s eyes shone bright and Myka's chest ached, but then H.G. smiled, leaned in, and, lips right against Myka's ear, whispered, "Alright, darling. Let's hear that plan."

The noises from the trees sounded again. Closer.

Myka began to explain.


	2. Chapter 2: Moving In

_ Imagine your OTP moving in together for the first time._

* * *

The moment the sun broke through the window, Myka was awake. She was a light sleeper; it was simply part of the job. Merely being awake, however, was not always accompanied by alertness. This morning, she jerked upright, a sharp gasp flying from her lips. This wasn't her room, this wasn't right, something was very wrong, she—

She was in H.G.'s room.

Myka groaned with relief when the realization hit, flopping back down on the pillow. Her mind raced as she tried to consider the night before. It was the first time she'd ever woken up here. She remembered coming into H.G.'s room to read, and she remembered H.G. lying there and watching her, an arm over her, occasionally whispering, "Are you asleep, Myka?" She remembered promising H.G. she would go back to her room soon, and she remembered H.G. silently leaning forward to press a tender kiss to her forehead. She remembered closing the book, and she remembered H.G. kissing her neck and telling her she looked exhausted.

And so she had stayed the night.

Normally it was the reverse. Myka couldn't count the number of times she had woken up to see H.G. beside her, regardless of if she had been there before Myka had fallen asleep. "I can't sleep at all without you," H.G. had confessed once, voice shaky, and Myka had smiled and kissed her and worried about all the nights H.G. didn't join her until those nights had been few and far between.

This was new, though. It wasn't the first time she'd ever been in H.G.'s bed, of course. She'd spent countless hours there, whether they were chatting, reading, or enthusiastically taking advantage of a time when everyone else was out of the Bed and Breakfast. Waking up here, however, left Myka feeling immensely out of place…and pleased.

"Myka?"

H.G. woke up slowly, hesitantly, as if carefully feeling out each day before she decided to join it. It delighted Myka every single morning she had the gift of witnessing it. She propped herself up on her elbow, taking in the lovely, still half-asleep woman beside her.

"Hi."

H.G. smiled up at her, looking bewildered. "Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Someone reneged on her promise to keep me from falling asleep." Myka found H.G.'s hand in the tangle of blankets and brought it up to her lips. "You're a terrible girlfriend."

"I'm not your…girlfriend," H.G. objected. She scooted closer to Myka, sleepily curling close against her. "That sounds childish. And I'm not terrible. You seemed so tired."

Myka dropped back down, smiling widely and bumping her nose against H.G.'s. Her early morning eagerness mixed with H.G.'s lingering sleepiness was a combination that left her absolutely elated. "You're definitely terrible," she teased.

H.G. tried to glare at her, but her stern expression was shattered by a deep yawn. A grinning Myka kissed her brow. "Terribl…y wonderful, that is."

The line earned a deep groan and a declaration of "You are absurd."

H.G., now fully awake and fully herself, rolled away from Myka and slipped out of bed. She pulled off the loose shirt she had worn to bed. It was right as H.G. opened the closet to reach for a top that the realization struck.

She spun around. "This is the first time you've stayed the night in my room."

Myka slowly raised her gaze to H.G.'s eyes. "Well, normally you're in mine. I'm sure it's been a month or two since we were here and you didn't spend the night with me. My bed's comfier. I think my back will hurt all day."

"Yours is nicer," H.G. agreed, but she was speaking carefully, and a distant look had entered her eyes. It was the same look that overtook her when she and Claudia were brainstorming new inventions, and Myka watched with narrowed eyes as H.G. finished getting dressed. This was a look that always ended in something spectacular or a plume of smoke. There was rarely a middle ground with H.G.

"A penny for your thoughts," Myka tried.

H.G. lifted a brow. "Do I look that cheap to you? Do try to have some class. Will you be joining me for breakfast? I'm going downstairs."

"Helena!" Myka leapt from the bed, amusement at the quip drowned out by irritation at her reticence. "What is it?"

"I only…let me consider how to word it." She hesitated, taking Myka's hand in hers. They exited the room and made their way towards the stairs. Myka waited, silent and hopeful.

It was only when they were nearly at the bottom of the stairs that H.G. turned to Myka. "Only, if it's been months since we didn't share a bed here, I don't see why we don't formally share a room. It's much more convenient."

Myka coughed and stumbled, tripping on the next stair. The request, one that Myka had almost made so many times, the one she wanted to cry out every single morning she woke to H.G. beside her, had just been made. Completely unexpectedly. H.G. shouted in dismay, grabbing at Myka as she fell; she successfully caught Myka, but they had no hope of regaining their balance. The two women ended up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"Did you just ask me to move in with you? After all this time?" Myka blinked down at H.G., who had ended up beneath her.

H.G. grimaced and rubbed her cheek where she'd hit the floor. She was very relieved there had only been a few stairs left when she'd voiced the idea. A bruise was fine; a shattered jaw would have been less appealing. "I didn't realize it would earn such a reaction. Well?"

In lieu of a response, Myka leaned down and kissed her.

That was when Leena came dashing in from the kitchen. "Oh my God! What happened? I heard a terrible thump—"

Myka sat up, still straddling a very pleased H.G. "Good morning, Leena. Out of curiosity, are there any particular rules on two agents sharing a room?"

Leena gaped…and then she beamed.

And so it was that, later in the afternoon, H.G. sat at the kitchen table with Claudia and Leena. From upstairs, loud thumping and clunking could be heard, punctuated by Myka's shouts of "Pete! Stop that!" and Pete's shouts of "But Mykes, this stuff is _heavy_!"

"Shouldn't you be helping?" Claudia wondered, looking at H.G.

H.G. sipped on her glass of iced tea. "Well, I would have thought so, but they seem to have forgotten about me in their eagerness to bicker. I don't want to interrupt them now."

"Ri-i-ight." Claudia grinned. "I like your strategy."

"You're very happy," Leena commented, studying H.G. "I don't think I've ever seen you so pleased. You feel very at home. So content. I'm happy for you."

"You know, it's creepy when you do that," Claudia told Leena, who smiled and rolled her eyes.

H.G. ran her finger up the glass, brushing off beads of water. She considered Leena's analysis. "For much of my time in this future, I have felt out of place. The Warehouse was my only home, but even that was denied to me. Forced away. Sent away. Myka has always fought to help me have a home once more, even long before we were in love—"

Claudia snorted. "You two were in love from the first moment you showed up. I was there."

"—and now, not only has she helped me earn my home at the Warehouse, but she is willing to build a separate home with me. Somehow, even with every misstep I have made, Myka wants to create a life together, and—"

"Create a life? What, like a baby? Dude, it doesn't work like that," Claudia interrupted again.

H.G. steepled her fingers beneath her chin and frowned at Claudia, who only grinned back. "Oh, for the days when you were terrified of me. So much more polite," H.G. sighed, her eyes bright with amusement despite her frown. Her relationship with Claudia had grown perhaps more deeply than her relationship with anyone else apart from Myka; they got along splendidly.

"I understand," Leena spoke up, patting H.G.'s arm. "Claudia and I are both so very happy for you."

A loud series of curses rang from upstairs, and H.G. rose from her seat. "I think I should go take a look at how things are going, before they smash the little that I own."

She passed Pete on the stairs, who stuck his finger in her face. "You owe me big time! Your girlfriend's crazier than usual! Someone shoved a whole tree up her ass today!" he shouted, raising his voice at the end, ensuring that Myka could hear it. She yelled something incoherent from upstairs and Pete grinned. "I gotta go before she kills me," he mouthed.

"Thank you for the help," H.G. told him, silently regretting letting the two of them take on the task. Missions, the two of them regularly handled. But the simple task of moving a few boxes? Apparently impossible without some discord. He squeezed her shoulder and she moved past him.

Myka stuck her head out from H.G.'s former room. Her hair was a mess and she had her old manic look on her face. Books stacked precariously high filled the hall and H.G. carefully picked her way around them as she made her way over to Myka.

"I'm here to replace Pete."

"I can't believe him! He promised to help and he gave up already! He is such a child!" She pursed her lips, irritation and stress melding into one.

H.G. sighed, laying a soft kiss on Myka's cheek, taking her jewelry box from her hands. "Darling, we're moving a few books and some clothing across the hall. Don't make this into something it isn't. Nothing is changing."

"A _few_ books," Myka grumbled. "I just…Helena, I haven't moved in with anyone in my entire life. Not fully."

"How convenient, then, that there's an empty room right here in case we don't enjoy it. And how convenient that we've shared a house for so long. And how convenient that I barely spend a night from your side already."

"It won't be the same. It's going to be different now and I need it to go well. It has to." The anger in her voice from her exchange of curses with Pete rose up again. She ran a hand through her hair, but it did nothing to calm the wild curls.

"Oh, Myka," H.G. said, setting the box down on a stack of novels and taking Myka's face in her hands, "Nothing is going to change. Our rooms were ten feet away before. All I need is for you to take a deep breath. And then we're going to finish filling your room with my things. And then we will lock the door to our shared room, and I will proceed to absolutely ravish you. How does that plan sound?"

Myka considered that, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Well?" H.G. prompted.

"Not if I ravish you first," Myka declared, and H.G. laughed.

"Myka Bering, God help me, I am madly in love with you."

Downstairs, Claudia heard the bedroom door slam. She and Leena jumped from their chairs in the same instant, exchanged a horrified glance, and immediately dashed for the front door. Last time, they had not been as speedy, and the lesson had stuck.

"Not again!" Claudia cried. "Run out of my own home!"

With a sigh, Leena linked arms with Claudia and they headed out into the yard. "They're going to need their own home."

"Or Anne of Austria's belt."

"Claudia!"


	3. Chapter 3: Stormy Night

_Imagine your OTP lying in bed tangled up in each other and the sheets, watching the rain hit the window while it's storming outside._

* * *

No day at the Warehouse was an easy day. Challenge after challenge and struggle after struggle, day in and day out. To be an agent at the Warehouse took immense strength of body and mind. Each agent was prepared for a tough day. And yet, even for a day spent tracking down dangerous supernatural artifacts, Thursday had been an especially exhausting day.

Myka, H.G., and Pete arrived back at two in the morning. Pete had dropped the bag with the wristwatch on the table, mumbled, "Gonnajusstakealilnap," and collapsed on the couch. Myka looked from the artifact to Pete to H.G., sighed, and headed up the stairs. H.G. was close behind. Normally they could barely manage a moment of silence around each other, both eager to share every thought they had; on this day, after everything, the very idea of trying to speak was nauseating. The effects of the watch still lingered, and when a dizzy Myka slipped on the stairs, only H.G.'s firm hands on her waist kept her from tragedy. It was enough to balance all the silence in the world. She took H.G.'s hand in hers.

They paused at the top of the stairs, both wobbling and catching themselves, and then they stumbled into their shared bedroom. Myka fell on top of the bed and H.G. dropped next to her a second later. They undressed with a surgical slowness. Myka undid the buttons of H.G.'s shirt and H.G. helped peel Myka's jeans from her legs. Neither was willing to stand up now that they'd returned to their bed.

"We did it," Myka announced, voice horse. In defiance of her own weariness, weighed down by a sense of obligation she moved to straddle H.G. The other woman shifted comfortably beneath her, reaching out to tuck a strand of Myka's hair beneath her ear.

"Are we celebrating?" H.G. asked. Her voice was a cracking whisper after the day's events. She grimaced as she spoke.

"Mm," Myka agreed, and she lowered her lips to H.G.'s.

H.G. returned the kiss, a long and tender one, without the typical desperation that colored most of her time with Myka. Yet even as a moan escaped her lips as Myka's hands began their work, she was shaking her head. "Not tonight, darling. It won't be worth it."

Myka sighed, half with disappointment and half with relief. She lay beside H.G., face to face, studying the woman in front of her. The bags beneath H.G.'s eyes were dark; she wondered if hers were as bad. The whole week had been nonstop work. Tonight, the watch, and before that there had been the vase and the flute. For four days, she and H.G. had been separated, and even when they had been together, they'd been sharing hotel rooms with Pete. This was their first night in their room since last Friday, and now they could barely move. Sometimes, she longed so dearly for a normal life that she didn't think she could last one more moment at the Warehouse. She loved her work, but Myka was a homebody at heart, with a love for books and crackling fires and afternoons spent under heavy blankets, and when she was able to share that with H.G. for even a single day, returning to the field was absolutely crushing.

And yet, conversely, it was always H.G. who kept her there. They both needed the Warehouse—time had shown that. When Myka's resolve flickered, H.G. pulled her back. When H.G. began to lose herself, Myka helped her return.

Perhaps things would always be like this. Perhaps every domestic moment would be accompanied by a hundred life-and-death chases. Myka absently caressed H.G.'s cheek, eyes silently locked on hers. Did she worry the same? Were things as hard for her as they were for Myka? Myka swallowed hard and tried to settle her mind on the moment.

"Myka," came the whisper, and H.G. brushed her lips against Myka's jaw. "Don't let a long week get to you so easily."

"Am I so transparent?"

"Absolutely."

H.G. rolled over to her other side, and Myka automatically adjusted to fit her. She never felt more at ease than when she had H.G. solidly in her arms, and it pleased her more than anything to feel the tension drain from H.G.'s body. Burying her face in the cascade of dark hair in front of her, she drew a deep breath.

"I'm sure I smell splendid after a long day of sprinting and sweating through back alleys," H.G. observed, and Myka smiled.

"I don't mind."

They lay there, sheets tangled about them, in silence for several minutes. Neither had the strength to speak, but sleep was slow to come. Only the heavy blanket of exhaustion covered them, without a hint of rest.

"Myka?"

H.G.'s voice broke into Myka's mind as she drifted half-awake. She had no idea whether it had been minutes or hours since they had last spoken. "Mm?"

"It's storming."

The rain was pouring down. Myka had no memory of it beginning, but she could see it over H.G.'s shoulder as it beat against the window. She pressed closer to H.G., removing the space that had widened between them as they'd drifted off. "I don't remember the last time it rained."

"I pray it rains all weekend," H.G. murmured. "Perhaps Artie will extend some mercy to us."

"I don't think I'll move an inch from this bed."

"I don't think I'll let you."

They both smiled, Myka's confident, H.G.'s content, and though neither could see the other, each knew exactly how she looked. Artie loved a rainy day; perhaps, Myka and H.G. dared to hope, he would be too content to send them off. Perhaps they would have a day for no one but each other.

For now, however, these early hours would have to do. They gazed through the large window at the deluge. Each time there was a furious flash of lightning, one of them would flinch, and they shared a quiet laugh, Myka grinning into the back of H.G.'s neck and H.G. always reaching for Myka's hand again moments after releasing it. Apart from the brief interruption of laughter, their world was completely silent except for the sound of the rain against glass, and neither could remember a more enjoyable night.

By the time H.G. fell asleep, snug in Myka's arms, the thunder had dimmed to a low rumble and the rain was pattering instead of pounding. With one hand resting on H.G.'s bare chest, Myka could feel her heartbeat, no longer stuttering from the work of the watch. She pressed her smile into the nape of H.G.'s neck, her earlier fears seeming as distant as a childhood memory.

It wasn't long before Myka was lulled to sleep by the beat of rain on the window and the warmth of the woman curled in her arms.


	4. Chapter 4: Goodbyes

_Imagine your OTP making love the night before one or both of them has to go complete a dangerous and life-threatening task. _

_*A reminder that these chapters aren't in any order or even in the same "world" necessarily. I know this one is weird after the last one. This one's obviously not in the same "everything is so happy!" AU.  
_

* * *

Myka had tried so hard to maintain her composure. Her face had been carved in stone as H.G. had poured out the explanation. She'd nodded and commented on how important this mission was. Of course, she'd agreed. Mrs. Frederic was right. Only H.G. could do this. It all made perfect sense.

When H.G. smiled, so weak and uncertain, Myka did not falter. When H.G. promised that she would come back, Myka only nodded and accepted it. When H.G. had reached out for her, Myka's arms stayed crossed.

When H.G. turned and started to walk away, Myka broke.

"Please don't leave me. Oh, God, please don't leave me." The words flew out of her and she wanted nothing more than to pull them back, but it was too late and the tears were already shining in her eyes. "I've lost you so many times and I can't do it again. I can't, I can't. Don't leave me. Please."

"There isn't a choice." H.G. turned around, shaking her head, hopelessness clear on her face. As hurt as she'd been over Myka's frigid reception to her appearance and explanation, she'd known it was only in defense, and this was infinitely worse. "You know that."

"Please don't leave me." Myka stepped forward and caught H.G. in her arms, a sob tearing from her chest the moment she touched her. "There's no reason to leave. Mrs. Frederic is wrong. You need us."

"I need _you_," H.G. said, "every moment. And everyone here is dear to me. Nevertheless, I wish she wasn't right but she is. I shouldn't even be speaking to you, Myka. I should be gone."

Myka's fists balled in the fabric of H.G.'s shirt. "We're a team. We both work better when we're together."

"You are the best agent there is. And I am more than competent by myself," H.G. insisted. "We will be fine on our own for a while."

H.G. was speaking clearly and logically, and part of Myka knew she was right. But that part of Myka had been forced to the front for too long, and it crumbled now, faced with this impending loss. "How long is a while? You can't know. You can't. And you—you keep being taken from me. This is the first time I've seen you in so long and it's just another goodbye. We're always saying goodbye, Helena, and I can't do it any more."

"Then I promise that 'goodbye' will not leave my mouth." H.G. had taken Myka's face in her hands, fingers stroking her cheeks in a constant, gentle motion as she did her best to comfort Myka. "We both know who I am without you. I will come back. I must."

"Can't we just destroy the Astrolabe?" It was childish, petulant, and Myka was awash with shame the second she said it.

"Oh, Myka, darling, you know better than that."

The tears, blindingly settled in Myka's eyes for so long, broke free now. H.G. kissed one away and then another, but they only flowed faster after that; tears of her own began to well up.

"We're being very foolish," H.G. whispered, her face pressed against Myka's.

"I don't care."

With a gentle touch to her cheek, H.G. turned Myka's head to face her. They gazed at each other for an endless instant, and then suddenly H.G. was kissing her for the first time. For a first kiss, Myka thought it was all anyone could ask for, full of hunger and longing and the pent-up passion of a thousand missed opportunities, above any kiss in her memory. But she couldn't dwell on it, because H.G. was swift in her desperation and Myka had no time to consider the merits of a second, third, and fourth kiss as they flew by.

For an instant, Myka was almost swept away, but then the dynamic readjusted, and she pushed H.G. several steps backwards against the wall as they kissed.

"Oh," gasped H.G., and Myka felt a giddy, proud rush wash over her as the other woman responded to her touch and kiss. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of H.G.'s shirt, finally, triumphantly, pulling it open, despite H.G.'s attempts to push her hands away.

"There's no time. I need to leave!" H.G. tried.

It was true. They were all in danger every moment the astrolabe stayed here, if what H.G. had said was true. But Myka no longer cared. Nothing mattered if H.G. left and never returned. If this was all they had— "What if there's no time later? What if this is our only chance?"

Myka didn't hear H.G.'s panted response. She was too focused on unbuckling her belt, even as H.G. weakly tried to stop her.

"Helena, please," Myka breathed. "Give us this." She knew H.G. wanted it, had wanted from the moment she'd kissed her, and she wasn't going to let her back away from that now.

And H.G. gave in, pulling Myka to her instead of pushing her away, protests turning into moans as they found the culmination of what they had both felt as long as either could remember. There on the cold floor, tear streaks on their cheeks still not dry, Myka found the goodbye she had been waiting for.

After, things moved in a blur. H.G. had dressed in silence, broken only by a weary laugh as she discovered her shirt had lost two buttons, and Myka had sat there, knees pulled to her bare chest, watching her with a blank expression and no sound. H.G. had reached down to her, their fingertips brushing ever so slightly, and then Myka's eyes had blurred with tears and H.G. had been gone without another word.

Time worked against them. It always had. Every moment they shared would always be a drop in the sea compared to the moments they spent hurled apart by fate.

But better to have shared those moments than not at all. Myka took a deep breath and pushed herself up from the floor. She had done this before and she could do it again, no matter how hard it would be. _H.G. would be back. She always came back._ She repeated those thoughts constantly in her head as she dressed. It was her lifeline. Thinking otherwise was too much to bear.

When Myka closed her eyes, she could still feel H.G.'s hands on her.

It was with the greatest reluctance that she opened them.


	5. Chapter 5: The Bus Stop

_Imagine your OTP seeing each other for the first time after a long separation in a subway station. Person A sees Person B step off the train from across the room, and runs to them. Person A twirls Person B around, not caring about anyone else in the station._

_*or, in this case, a bus stop  
_

* * *

Two weeks. _Two weeks. _It should have been a routine snag-it-and-bag-it mission, but Myka had been gone for two weeks now. H.G. was furious at the whole situation. Everyone had tried to distract her, but it had been in vain. Keeping her mind off of Myka was an impossible feat

By the end of the first week, she and Artie were at each other's throats. On the third day, he had plucked the Farnsworth from her hands and declared that it wasn't for personal calls; H.G. had looked like she could strangle him. Things had worsened on the fifth day, with H.G. snapping that he had made a terrible error in sending Myka and Pete without her and Artie firing back that if she was going to question his judgment, she could find another job. After they both received a tongue-lashing from Leena, things had mellowed, but H.G. was still all scowls and frustrated mutterings as she paced relentlessly through whatever room she found herself in, and Claudia and Leena made sure not to leave her and Artie alone in a room together ("You can't leave old people alone without them squabbling," Claudia had complained, and Leena had snorted).

The second week was worse. Something had happened, there had been a shift in the playing field, and all Myka and Pete had been able to explain in their last Farnsworth call was that something was wrong. After that, every effort to reach them had failed. H.G. and Claudia had been ready to hop a plane, but Artie had refused, insisting that Myka and Pete could handle the situation.

It had been a long two weeks for H.G. She couldn't remember a giddier moment than when, at breakfast one morning, Claudia's cell phone rang and she'd answered it with a cry of "Pete! Oh my God!" and the following shout of "So you're both okay!"

Today was the day they were coming home, after fifteen days away.

H.G. stood at a Sioux Falls bus stop, shivering with cold and anticipation. Myka and Pete had been unable to get plane tickets, so Claudia had come with her to meet them, taking the Prius, but she was further down the street, attention caught by a small record store. H.G. waited without her. An elderly couple and a pregnant woman with a young child were seated on the benches; three teenagers and two young men also stood.

"What time does the Aberdeen bus arrive?" she demanded, turning to look at the group of teenagers. They shrugged.

"It'll be another half hour," one of the men told her, and she huffed in irritation, turning back to the street without a word of thanks.

Perhaps half an hour shouldn't have seemed long after two weeks, but to H.G., it seemed the greatest injustice in the world to have to wait a moment longer for Myka's return. H.G. seethed as two other buses came and went and the collection of people at the stop rotated around her.

The bus should have arrived ten minutes ago. H.G. wandered down the street to perch on a low wall, unable to stand at the stop and listen to the mindless chatter of its occupants any longer. She was tired and worried and she wished Claudia would reemerge to keep her company. By fifteen minutes, she'd begun composing a complaint letter to Greyhound in her mind, and by twenty, she was up and pacing the sidewalk, unable to concentrate.

Finally, thirty minutes after the marked time, the bus pulled up, covered in dust and screeching as it came to a stop. H.G.'s heart leapt into her throat. Her pacing halted when she was still several yards from the stop, and her legs were too leaden to move her any closer. She ran one hand through her hair; the other fiddled with the locket around her neck. _Two weeks._

The first person off the bus was a middle-aged man who… H.G. frowned in concentration. He seemed to be yelling into thin air, and both of his hands were gesturing wildly, so it couldn't be a cell phone. Something grey was in his ear, too large to be a hearing aid. She was familiar with those, but this was new. She filed it away to ask about later, very aware that she was only paying so much attention to it because of her nerves. Now he was moving away and she looked back at the bus. Several people had excited while she was distracted, and now a stout young man was helping an elderly woman off. They seemed to be engaged in a challenge to see just how slowly they could move. H.G. groaned, tipping her head back. How many people could fit on a bus? Did Myka and Pete choose the very back seats? How long—

Her breath caught. She was positive that she'd seen a glimpse of curls through the windshield.

It wasn't Myka. H.G. cursed under her breath as a young man with a shock of long curly hair dismounted. Unbelievable. She checked her watch. This had to be the right bus. Her fellow agents were just moving at a painfully slow speed.

She took a few small steps forward, craning her neck in hopes of seeing them before they exited the bus. When the wind carried the sounds of soft bickering—"Stop it, you've had enough to eat today" and "Why do you have to suck the fun out of everything in the world?"—to her ears, her heart began to pound.

_Two weeks._

Pete exited first, stretching theatrically and looking about. H.G. barely noticed him, even when he saw her and began walking towards her, waving wildly. Myka was behind him, and she was all H.G. could see.

Once Myka's first foot left the bus and hit the concrete, H.G. abandoned her slow pace. She was sprinting suddenly, rushing past the approaching Pete, pushing aside one man and forcing her way through a group on the sidewalk, deaf to the shouts of dismay and anger that followed her.

"Myka!"

Their eyes met and Myka was beaming. H.G.'s heart soared.

She reached her, finally, after what felt like the longest dash of her life. Before Myka could even utter a greeting, H.G. caught Myka in her arms, lifting her off the ground as best as she could manage with the taller woman, and spun her around.

"You're back!"

Myka's laughter was a mixture of surprise and joy. She threw her arms around H.G.'s neck, struggling to maintain some semblance of balance as they twirled. "I am! I'm back!"

"Oh, I missed you more than you could know. I wanted to come join you but Artie forbade it," H.G. said, setting Myka back on the ground, leaving both hands on her waist. "It's been a dreadful two weeks."

"You're telling me," Myka laughed. Over H.G.'s shoulder she could see a grinning Pete. He mouthed something, but she couldn't tell what it was and she was sure it was something immature that she would be better off not knowing. She returned her full attention to H.G., placing a hand on her cheek and soaking in the sight of the woman she had missed so desperately while she had been away. "So, did I stumble into a nineties romantic comedy? I went in prepared for a hug, but that was different. I thought a groovy pop number was about to start playing when you picked me up."

H.G. frowned. "Well, I saw it in a film. It seemed sweet. That was a train station, though. Is there a tactical difference?"

Myka stared at H.G., who was the very picture of seriousness, before she broke out laughing. She wrapped her arms around H.G., rocking in a deep hug, before she stepped back to fully take her in, still holding her hands.

"You have _got_ to stop getting all your ideas on American culture from movies."


End file.
